


Scenes from a Wedding

by ajstyling



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Brief mentions of additional ships, Comedy, Everybody Lives, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Golden Route AU, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22422979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajstyling/pseuds/ajstyling
Summary: At long last, the day has arrived: Hilda and Claude are getting married.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 18
Kudos: 56





	Scenes from a Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is unabashed fluff to celebrate hilclaude hitting 100 fics on AO3! It's dedicated to all of the writers and artists who have created content for this wonderful ship. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thank you to beta reader therewasonlyonebed

A bright and warm morning sun washed over the monastery and crept in through the cracks of the window-shutters, casting streaks of light across the small room. Claude sat up in bed and felt a gentle breeze push through the room bringing a pleasant cool everywhere it touched. A streak of light flashed against the buckle of Hilda’s belt. Her belt lay on top of a high-heeled shoe in the far corner of the room. The other shoe was nowhere to be seen in any of the clothing piles that littered the floor. He smiled to himself. A lot was set to change today, growing more accustomed to the haphazard discarding of clothes would have to be one of them.

As he sat there, he felt arms he knew so well and loved so much wrap around his waist. Long pink hair brushed against his back, tickling the skin where it landed.

“Big day today,” Hilda whispered against his neck before her teeth pressed gently against the same spot where her words had landed.

Claude’s response, full of meaningful words about how important this day was, about what it meant to him, about how happy he was, and how happy he hoped she was, was lost as she bit down upon his neck once more, harder this time, and the hands around his waist pulled him back toward her.

The words were forgotten and the world disappeared. And he was falling. Falling into her. Then they were falling together. Falling into passionate kisses and gentle caresses. Falling into a tender, deliberate attentiveness that thrilled them anew each time. 

Then they were rising, together, in search of a crescendo they knew they would find. Rising with gasps and sighs, moans and cries. 

Then, after searching thoroughly with passion and devotion, they found their peak. First one and then the other, both blending together to become something more.

And then, at last, the world returned. 

After a while, words returned too.

“Big day indeed,” Claude pressed a kiss behind Hilda’s earlobe.

Hilda slowly extricated herself from his arms and moved toward the dresser in the corner of the room they stayed in. She made no effort to pick up or put on any of the clothes littered on the ground. 

From the bed, Claude looked around the room at the makeup and jewelry scattered upon the desk, nightstand, and the dresser. He looked at the clothes thrown haphazardly around the room. Then, he looked at the girl standing in front of the dresser her body and soul revealed to him without an ounce of shame. He watched as she meticulously brushed her hair. And he smiled, a smile so big and wide it should have hurt.

His eyes tracked the gentle movements of her hand as she brought the brush through her hair, untangling all the knots they had just made.

“Beautiful day for a wedding,” Claude muttered from the bed, his eyes still fixed on Hilda.

“It is beautiful. Everyone did a great job.”

Claude squinted, “Everyone did a great job with what?”

“Oh,” Hilda kept her eyes fixed resolutely in front of her.

“Hilda.”

“So, I may have asked a few mages to help, you know, give us beautiful weather to get married.”

Claude sighed and then laughed, “I should have known.”

She finally looked back from the mirror and gave him a small wink, “Yeah, you really should have.”

A pleasant silence fell over them as Claude watched in hypnotic rapture as she continued to brush her hair. She knew he liked watching and so made no effort to move faster. 

“So,” he finally broke from the reverie, “how many people are going to cry today?”

“Hmmm,” Hilda mused as she continued to brush her hair. “Ferdinand is a given. Marianne too.”

“Depending on how many glasses of wine she’s had, Manuela,” Claude offered back. 

Hilda laughed, “Probably true.”

“Anyone else?”

“Hmmm,” Hilda pretended to think, “well, there’s at least one more.”

“Who?”

“You, of course,” she gave him another teasing wink.

He laughed again then, in an instant, he was at the dresser and his lips were upon hers. The world, along with their morning, disappeared once more.

* * *

The midmorning sun stretched into the sky, not a cloud in sight, and cast the monastery in a pleasantly warm air. 

Dedue strolled quickly through the monastery. He strode past the dining hall, its kitchen bustling with activity and what he thought was the sound of Annette’s songs. He arrived at the gardens and made his way toward Ashe, tucked away in a corner as he oversaw the transformation of the gardens into an area fit for a wedding. Benches were removed, hundreds of chairs were put down, and the gazebo at the center was adorned with the loveliest of flowers.

The outdoor dining area behind the gardens was undergoing a similar metamorphosis as tables were laid out and the finest casks of wine were dragged up from the cellar. Though Claude’s family would not drink, he still insisted on wine for the other guests and, on the order of Seteth, the monastery had been happy to provide. 

“Beautiful day for a wedding,” Dedue remarked as he stood beside Ashe. “I am glad that the gardens will work for the ceremony after all.”

Beside him, Ashe sighed, “Well that’s a relief because frankly I’m not sure how Claude expected us to fit his wyvern inside of the monastery. As it is I’m not even sure that the gardens—”

“We’ll find a space for her,” Dedue gently cut off Ashe.

“But,” Ashe began again.

Dedue reached out and took Ashe’s hand in his own, “Joyous days like these can be so rare. Let us make it everything they hope.”

Ashe sighed but let his objections go with a smile.

“Besides,” Dedue added with a playful smile, “If I recall correctly, you had some rather specific requests for our wedding.”

“Well, that seems neither here nor there,” Ashe blushed furiously. 

Dedue squeezed his hand once more and gently kissed him on the cheek. “Now, the guests are set to arrive so I must join the lovely couple in greeting them and guiding them to the correct rooms. As for you, I heard the alarming crash of a pot as I passed the kitchen on my way here. Would you go and be sure that all is well with Annette?”

* * *

All was not well with Annette. 

As Ashe entered the kitchen, he was surprised to notice a rather dour looking Felix stood in the middle of the kitchen. Adding to the surprise, he appeared to be sweeping up shards of a ceramic bowl, each piece doused in an ample amount of cake batter.

“Oh, Felix, surprised to see you in here,” Ashe said kindly.

Felix looked up from the mess he was sweeping with one of the fiercest scowls Ashe had ever seen, “Believe me, I’d rather be someplace else.”

Ashe watched Felix blush as a light voice yelled across the kitchen, “Felix, you scoundrel. You told me you wanted to be here!”

Felix’s words were lost to mumbles as Annette carried right on, “Oh, hello, Ashe! Please don’t mind my grumpy husband. He loves weddings, he just doesn’t like admitting that.”

“Noted,” Ashe chuckled before he gave a worried glance to the floor that Felix was sweeping. “If I may ask, what happened there?”

“Oh,” it was Annette’s turn to blush furiously. “Just a minor incident really…”

“She was dancing,” Felix offered.

“Felix!”

“Dancing?” Ashe quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes, she dances when she bakes. She lost track of where she was, flailed an arm too enthusiastically, and a pot ended up broken on the floor,” Felix stated matter of factly without looking up.

“I see,” Ashe sighed.

“I was only dancing because Felix asked me to sing him a song!”

“Annette!” 

“You did!”

“He doesn’t need to know that!”

Ashe sighed again, louder. Surely he could have handled greeting the guests and Dedue could have handled the kitchen.

Annette folded her arms across her chest dramatically and leaned against the counter nearest to her—narrowly avoiding a stack of plates sat precariously on the edge, “Well, if you’re embarrassed by it then I suppose I can stop singing.”

“No,” Felix practically shouted and dropped the broom from his hands. “Don’t. Please.”

Ashe cleared his throat loudly and moved to stand beside Annette, casually pushing the plates further back onto the counter as he spoke. “Look, Felix, we all know you like to listen to Annette sing. It’s not a secret. As for you, Annette, please, just for today, less dramatic arm movements and no more broken dishes. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” they said at the same time, although neither Felix or Annette had the decency to look properly rebuked. Instead, Ashe watched as Felix resumed his sweeping and Annette continued baking, their movement interrupted frequently by affectionate glances. 

With one final sigh and a quick prayer, Ashe left the kitchen. He didn’t ask Seiros for much, just to keep the broken dishes to a minimum.

* * *

When it came to feasts and celebrations, Hilda and Claude didn’t do half-measures. Their wedding was no exception. The list of guests was vast. They compiled it together and tasked Lorenz with sending the invitations. He took the duty seriously, inviting all those they listed and quite few they had not. 

Most of the guests from Goneril and Almyra, including their families, had already arrived, but many of their monastery comrades had yet to arrive. So, when they were finally able to muster the necessary restraint to leave their bedroom, they joined Dedue in the reception hall to await their friends’ imminent arrival.

First, there arrived Sir Ingrid Galatea, first of the Order of Blaiddyd Pegasus Knights, in full knight regalia.

Always one for ceremony and decorum, Ingrdid stopped short of them and bowed from her waist, “Your Majesties.”

Hilda shared a small smile with Claude. They still weren’t used to anyone using their official titles, much less a close friend.

“Well met, Sir Ingrid,” Claude nodded. “Would it be a great offense to knightly decorum to offer a hug and insist that our first names work just fine?”

Ingrid seemed to think about the request for a moment before she responded, “I think that would be fine. If your Majesties will it.”

Claude barked out a laugh. 

“We will it,” Hilda insisted before she took two steps and enveloped her in a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you, Ingrid.”

Claude followed suit, “I must say, Ingrid, you look rather dashing!”

The compliment brought a light blush to Ingrid’s cheeks, “Thank you, Your Maj—uh Claude.”

The doors to the reception hall opened once more and Ingrid continued, “Now, allow me to present to you my Lord, His Royal Highness Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, first of his name, the Savior King of Faerghus…”

Dimitri strode purposefully through the reception hall and stopped beside Ingrid, “And very much his wife’s lesser,” he interjected, offering all three of them a wide grin.

“Dimitri,” Ingrid frowned and gently scolded him, “you didn’t let me finish your introduction.”

Dimitri bowed his head slightly, “My deepest apologies my brave, honorable, and beautiful knight. I thought today that I might just be your husband.”

“You people have zero knightly sensibilities,” Ingrid grumbled good naturedly, but still reached out and took Dimitri’s hand in her own.

“Great to see you, my friend,” Claude extended his hand toward Dimitri.

“You as well,” their hands clasped each other’s forearms by way of greeting.

“I must say that the eye patch is looking quite regal,” Claude teased as they let go of each other’s arm.

“I am surprised you could even see it from down there,” Dimitri offered with a smirk, “Have you grown shorter since we last met?”

Hilda fell into a small fit of giggles and the other three followed. Soon, Ingrid and Dimitri left the reception hall to find their room and get settled in.

Shortly thereafter came Dorothea in the company of her husband Ferdinand and their three, quite lively, daughters. The eldest, Dahlia, and the youngest, Poppy, had vibrant orange hair that uncannily resembled their father’s. True to her name, Rose, the middle of the three daughters, presented Hilda with a beautiful bouquet of pink roses before retreating to safety behind her mother.

Then came Lorenz and Marianne, who, through Lorenz’s extensive knowledge of ancient greeting customs, had managed to convince the gatekeeper to allow them to bring her horse into the reception hall. According to Marianne, Dorte wished to extend his congratulations to the happy couple. Hilda and Claude received the congratulations, from Marianne, Lorenz, and Dorte, with large grins and a few gentle pats to Dorte’s snout.

There arrived a loud clamoring of Brigidian troops, only a few of which either Hilda or Claude recognized. Petra, Queen of Brigid, followed the troops into the reception hall with Bernadetta, casting a few nervous glances at all of the people who filled the hall, at her side. Petra kept a hand pressed to the small of Bernadetta’s back the entire time, constantly letting her wife know that she was not alone. 

Petra presented the happy couple a set of daggers that Hilda assumed were ceremonial until Petra added, “For the protection against assassins.” Bernadetta opted for giving them a beautifully painted portrait, which everyone hoped would prove more useful than the daggers. 

An out of breath squire followed them, squeaking out formal titles around gasps of air before Edelgard, surprisingly not in her Imperial regalia, entered the hall with Hubert at her side. They both appeared more at ease than ever before and Claude thought he spied a few longing glances shared between the two of them. Still, the formality of their greeting put Ingrid’s to shame. Claude made a note to hug them later, after the wine was flowing. 

Then came Leonie, Lysithea, Raphael and Ignatz (hand-in-hand no less). Mercedes followed shortly after and then Sylvain, who was given the strictest of warnings from Hilda that he was not allowed to try kissing anyone. 

Finally, came Linhardt and Caspar. Their slight tardiness and Linhardt’s groggy expression the result of some late night escapade that Caspar attempted to explain away. The greetings were kept to a minimum as Linhardt and Caspar quickly retreated to their room—a nap before the ceremony a necessity.

* * *

The afternoon passed in a blur of happy reunions and before they knew it the sun began to slowly dip in the sky. Hilda took this as her cue to bid Claude a temporary farewell and retreated to her private quarters to get ready for the ceremony.

She sat alone in the room, threading golden flowers throughout her hair when a small knock on the door disrupted her thoughts.

“Come in,” Hilda said.

The door opened and Claude’s mother stepped through it. She stood in the doorway for a moment taking in the sight of Hilda. 

“You look radiant,” she smiled.

“Thanks, Catherine,” Hilda beamed. “Here to welcome me to the family?”

Catherine smiled gently and moved to stand behind her. Without a word she took the golden flowers from Hilda’s hands and picked up where she left off, weaving the golden flowers throughout Hilda’s hair.

“I think,” she said after a while with a wry smile, “that would prove a bit redundant.”

Hilda’s head tilted to the side and she gave her a questioning look in the mirror.

“You’ve been family for years,” she said matter of factly, “even before that strange son of mine realized he loved you.”

Happy tears crept into the corner of Hilda’s eyes and threatened to make their way down her face. Ever prepared, Catherine quickly pulled a handkerchief from her khalat and passed it to her. 

“It’s true,” Catherine continued as Hilda dabbed at her own face with the handkerchief, “Before you were his lover, before you were even his advisor. You were a friend who welcomed a strange, lonely boy. You made him less alone and for that, you have been and always will be family.”

“Now,” she finished warmly, pulling the final golden flower through Hilda’s hair. “Stop crying. It’s time for you to marry that strange boy.”

* * *

“Hilda...”

She looked breathtaking. Long pink locks, adorned with golden flowers that matched the color of his kaftan, fell in a shining cascade down the back of her champagne, tulle dress. The dress was flawless, with bishop sleeves that pulled together on a bodice pressed with an intricately embroidered floral pattern. It was flawless and Claude thought it paled in comparison to the girl wearing it. 

She beamed as she crossed the courtyard toward where he stood beneath the gazebo, adorned in flowers of all varieties.

Her prediction from earlier proved true. As he reached his hand out toward her, joyous tears ran freely down his face. The tears felt different, better, than all the tears that had come before them.

“Claude,” she whispered as she took his hand and moved to stand beside him.

As Hilda’s brother Holst prepared to welcome the guests and begin the ceremony, Hilda leaned toward Claude with another breathless whisper, “I still can’t believe it.” 

“Hilda,” Claude answered with a whisper of his own, “I love you.”

Holst didn’t last long. He managed to complete almost one full sentence before gentle sobs racked his body. He couldn’t say much beyond how much happiness he wished for them. Judith saved the whole affair by gently guiding him to a seat, patting his back (with significantly less gentleness), and then standing in to preside over the ceremony. 

Unlike Holst, she was blissfully brief about everything. A brief greeting, a quick prayer to Seiros, and a quick reading of Almyran poetry to bring the ceremony to a close. She even managed to refrain from calling Claude “boy.”

And then, quick as it began, it was over. And everything was different.

The guests began to retreat to the larger courtyard where dancing and feasting awaited them, but for Hilda and Claude, still stood beneath the gazebo hand-in-hand, there was a moment of silence and peace.

And enchantment. 

Everything was the same and everything was different. Something ended and something began.

* * *

The raucous sound of eating, drinking, and dancing filled the courtyard of Garreg Mach for hours and hours, until the very last sliver of sun had disappeared on the horizon. Candles were brought out and enchantments were cast to keep the feast going until well into the next day.

Away from it all, an Almyran King and a Fódlan Queen snuck through the halls of the monastery hand-in-hand—their quarters and it's warm, lush bed their final destination. The journey took longer than anticipated as they made frequent stops to savor what married kisses felt and tasted like. 

In the morning, they would learn that Sylvain had not heeded Hilda’s warning. He had attempted to kiss no small number of men and women, earning himself no small number of duel challenges and death threats. 

They would learn that Seteth finally worked up the courage to ask Manuela to dance. They heard that when he asked her, her smile could have lit the entire monastery. 

They would learn that Dorothea had graced all the guests present with a song from the opera she was working on. They would learn that after the song, Ferdinand spent several minutes crying and wondering aloud how he was so lucky. 

They would learn that Dimitri had been goaded into a wrestling match with Raphael. Things did not end well for Dimitri, nor for Raphael when Ingrid offered to wrestle him instead.

All of this and more they would learn in the morning—in the very late morning—when they could finally be bothered to leave their room.

For now, it was enough for them to know each other, their lips, and the joy of at last reaching their bed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited that this ship has hit 100 fics and look forward to helping it reach 200!
> 
> Hilclaude forever <3
> 
> Feel free to come and yell at me:  
> Twitter: @ajstyyling  
> Pillowfort: ajsystling  
> Discord: ajstyling#6251


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